


Miscellaneous MSR Drabbles

by greekowl87



Series: Tumblr Prompts [29]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Drabbles, Early MSR, Episode: s06e15 Arcadia, Episode: s11e03 Plus One, F/M, Ficlets, Fluff, MSR, Post-Episode: s05e08 Kitsunegari, doesn't seem to belong anywhere else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2019-08-02 01:12:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16295468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greekowl87/pseuds/greekowl87
Summary: I have a couple of ficlets/drabbles that just seem to not belong anywhere else so hence this collection.





	1. Belated Birthday Wishes

Mulder never talked about his birthday. Birthdays were a painful reminder of a time when he had been happy and became a moment when other people in his life mocked him. Phobe. Diana. Once he found his way underground into the basement office, he thought that would be the end of it. But the mocking little birthday cards started to show up anonymously taped to his office door.

‘Happy Birthday, Spooky Mulder. - E.T. Xoxo.’

“Bastards,” Mulder would mutter. He would crumple to the joke card, throw it in the waste bin, go through his day, and celebrate either with the Gunmen or alone on his couch with his tapes to stave off his perpetual loneliness.

When he got Scully as a new partner, he was careful to stay guarded. He was overly sarcastic and guarded and tried to scare her away. But her fierceness and intellect made her stay he only admired her even more. After her abduction, he felt a protectiveness for his new partner and the pangs of something else entirely. He grew softer, his sarcasm less biting and his guard waning but he still didn’t tell her his birthday.

This year, he thought he was safe.

It was October 14th. He hadn’t found any mocking cards taped to his door, his mother had forgotten to call him, and the Gunmen had gotten caught up in the latest conspiracy theory. He had been able to spend it alone with a bottle of tequila this time. He already heard his partner on the other side of the basement office door. If she was here this early, there must have been a new case or a new lab report warranted her attention. Putting his key away, Mulder pushed the door open to see the room dark except for Scully holding a small bearclaw with a candle lit up. He smiled softly and as her face was reflected like that night with their first case in Oregon.

“Happy belated birthday, Mulder.”

Any urge to bark back any sarcastic remark. “You…you didn’t have to, Scully,” he said softly. He flicked on the light switch and dropped his trenchcoat on the coatrack. "And how did you know?“

"I’m a crack investigator remember? Now blow out this candle before it gets wax all over this pastry.”

She really surprised him sometimes, well, all the time, but he wasn’t going to let her know. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” she replied. She held out the bearclaw enticingly. He chuckled, unable to help himself and blew out the candle. “See, it’s not that bad.”

“You have to help me share,” he told her. He took the plate and sat in his regular chair. Scully produced a birthday card from out of thin air. “What? Did they put another one up?”

“No,” Scully answered. “This one is from me.”

He frowned in thought and opened up the card with the little cartoon Loch Ness monster. 'Have an unbelievable birthday!’ it proclaimed. Beneath in Scully’s neat script, was, 'Mulder - Happy birthday to the best partner. Here’s to another year of chasing monsters in the dark. - Scully.’

He looked up to see she had reclaimed her regular seat across from him. He tore the bearclaw in half and offered it to her. “You didn’t have to, Scully.”

“I wanted to. Happy birthday.”

“Three years and you finally celebrate it?”

“Birthdays are more fun when celebrated like dog years anyway,” she replied and took a healthy bite. She smiled. “So, where to next, Mulder?”

He looked down at the birthday card affectionately, tracing her handwritten message. “The great state of Michigan, the land of lakes. A sea monster ironically and a ghost ship.”

Scully chuckled. “Sounds like the perfect birthday adventure.”


	2. Mulder's Old Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scully tries to throw out Mulder's old ties.

It was their house. Their eclectic furniture. Their past, present, and future. The box of Mulder’s old ties had appeared out of thin air. She frowned in disgust as the musty smell infiltrated her nose.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting rid of these.”

“You can’t, Scully! These are classics!” He held up a vaguely familiar pattern; clearly 1992. “I met you with this tie.” He held up another one, slightly thinner and full of color. “I got the phone call you were cancer free with this tie.” Another one, a solid black that reminded Scully of when her wardrobe grew more severe. “After our first night of sex.” He held up another one, red and blues looking faded that reminded her of his gray skin when she found him in Montana. “When I knew I was going to be a father.”

“They’re old, Mulder.” She frowned trying to forget the old pain.

“But you’re not,” he answered. The sensual kiss burned her. “Leave ‘em.” He tugged at her hand suggestively. “I’ll let you use your imagination, Scully.”

“Do you have a tie to remember this moment?” She teased. She took the 1992 tie and pulled him close. “Or remake new memories?”

He smiled. “I’m sure we could find another tie to make memories.”


	3. "You can't ignore me forever."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt was "You can't ignore me forever." Will eventually turn into an Arcadia fic once school is done. Feedback is welcome.

"You can't ignore me forever."

"Watch me, Mulder."

"Want do you want me to do?" I pleaded. I used my height to block her into the back part of the office. "What should I do, Scully? I know I messed up?"

"Messed up? Try fucked up, Mulder."

Ever since Diana, Gibson, and Cassandra Spencer. I had royally fucked up. "I get that, Scully. I get that. Trust me."

"Trust you?" The irony was laced like acid in her voice. "Trust you? Just like you trusted me?"

Bite me in the ass why don't you? "We can't afford to be doing this, Scully. Not as husband and wife."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

I produced the fake ring from my suit pocket. "Marry me."

"Mulder."

"We have a case. Arcadia. Something about missing neighbors. It'll be fun, Scully. We get to play house."

She yanked the false ring from hand and pushed her way forwards. Scully began to gather her stuff for the day. "Our flight leaves at 10. Should I pick you up at eight?"

She glared at me and I couldn't help but smile. She slammed the door behind her. "Eight it is then," I murmured.


	4. Adrift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't sleep. Post Kitsunegari drabble with angst included.

Darkness is welcoming. In the darkness, she can’t see him or his tears or shame. In the darkness, he could disappear. But Scully is still there. He feels her. Her small hand traces his back muscles, her soft fingertips grazing all the major points across his cool skin. He tries to pretend he is asleep but they have been on too many stake outs and spent too many nights together. She knows his sleep patterns. “You’re cold, Mulder.”

“Fine, Scully.”

He shrugs her off rolling onto his side to momentarily relish the Egyptian cotton sheets of her bed. It still smells of their most recent union and that alone is enough to distract Mulder momentarily.

She huffs and draws the comforter up around them like a cocoon. She spoons behind him, her legs twisting with his like the roots of an ancient tree, her arms locking around him like a vice, and she burrows her face into the crook of his neck. Scully embraces are rare but he enjoys them immensely. He still has not figured out how she resolves their height differences and he thinks it’s an x-file. He tries to enjoy this rare gift but can’t.

“Why do you even keep me around,” he whispers.

Her hands splay across his chest like a blooming fire as she tries to burrow herself into him even further. “Well, mind blowing sex is one thing.” The joke falls on deaf ears. He feels her sigh and he closes his eyes to permanently imprint the memory. Surrounded. Close. Safe. Loved. “Mulder, it was not me. You did not point the gun at me. You did not shoot me. I’m right here.”

“I shot you.” His broken voice tears into the night and she feels hot tears on his cheeks. “I shot you.”

“Mulder,” she whispers. “Do you feel me? Do you feel us?”

“Feel what?”

“This moment,” she continues. Her voice is lulling him to sleep better than any drug or alcohol he’s experienced. “Modell is gone. Linda Bowers is gone. We’re safe. We have now. Let’s just enjoy the moment, Mulder.”

She’s an angel. Mulder’s sure of it. Or a saint. Or something else supernatural entirely. How does she love him so selflessly? How does she do it? “Scully,” he pleads in a whisper, “don’t ever let go. Don’t ever give up.”

Scully places a line of feathered kisses against his face. “As if that was even an option, Mulder. Sleep, okay? Let me do the worrying for once.”

And he does as she holds him together.


	5. "After many years"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt request from @iloveurscratchybeard over at Tumblr. "After many years"

After many years, she left.

Like all things in their relationship, it built slowly before coming to a head. Scully knew Mulder had been unhappy for some time. The way he became holed up in his office, pinning newspaper clippings like wallpaper should have been the first indication. Then there were the countless pencils on the ceiling. She knew better. Mulder had reminded her like a caged animal, pacing restlessly throughout their house and around their property, never really free. She suspected he missed something. Maybe it was the work or waiting for the apocalypse he kept silent about ever since they went on the run back in 2002. It was so hard to read him those days.

In 2008, the FBI came calling and Mulder was on fire again. She watched the thrill of the case take him back to the old days of where they would chase monsters in the dark and government conspiracies. Scully thought they were done with the darkness and that they had vanquished their demons. She almost lost him then but with his new found freedom, they were finally able to make something of their lives for a time.

But Scully was a trained medical doctor and while mental health wasn’t her specialty, she knew Mulder was depressed. She was already seeing the early signs in him. Something had changed between them once he regained his freedom. She thought things would be better between them. But they were worse.

The depression grew worse.

He disappeared into recesses of the internet and conspiracy websites. Any attempts of conversation died as soon as it started. He grew distant from her and she grew distant from him. She threw herself into medicine and he continued to throw himself into chasing conspiracies. Until one day, she just left.

There were no fights. No screaming. No anger. Just sadness and unspoken truths. She left him.

After many years that felt like an eternity, she came back.

The same work that had brought them together decades ago had brought them together again. They found themselves falling back into all patterns that they thought they had forgotten. Now here they wore, in the impossible situation of sharing a hotel room again (separate beds of course) while chasing doppelgängers through some small podunk town again.

The first night she let it happen, Scully swore it was just a moment of passion between them, just like it had been all those years ago that had spurned their initial romance. But oh, God, she had let herself go (and so did he). Old familiar rhythms were like an old fine wine or a memory that you call upon to get you through the tough times. Scully found herself letting go and embracing the moment as he moved above and she felt all sorts of heavenly ecstasy.

Now, here they were. The same fine wine and memories in another bed. He moved and she experienced heaven. Afterward, Mulder held her close. His body coiled around her protectively as if she would escape again. She let herself be swallowed like a snake’s prey and sighed happily.

“I want to come home,” she whispered to him. “To you and us.”

He kissed her passionately as much as their embrace would allow.

“You didn’t even have to ask, Scully. Love you.”

Sleep was close.

“You too, Mulder.”


	6. "Stop being so cute."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Tumblr @suitablyaggrieved (aka ScullysLovesQueequeg on ao3) "Stop being so cute."

“Stop being so cute.”

Scully looked up from her autopsy report that she had been reviewing. Mulder gave her an innocent smile and it quickly dropped under her questioning glare.

“What?”

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Do you remember our conversation when we both agreed to take our relationship further,” she answered cautiously. She glanced at the open office door. “Despite being in the basement again, Mulder, our personal lives are still the topic of juicy gossip in the bullpen. I’d prefer to keep a low profile”

“Hm.” He frowned and went back to scribbling something in a folder. “I just noticed your new blouse and jacket. That new thing with your jackets that look like a duster.” Mulder signed something. “And the blue blouse, it matches your eyes. I just wanted to tell you that you looked nice.”

“Cute and nice are two different things, Mulder.”

He smirked. “And what, pray tell, is that, Agent Scully?”

“Nice indicates professionalism. And not once in six years, to my memory, do I recall you paying particular attention to my wardrobe. Cute implies intimacy between couples.”

“Which we are. Technically. Even if it were just us. You just look cute today and I wanted you to know, Scully. I would have settled for beautiful but I was afraid you would shoot me again.” Mulder looked back down at the paperwork in front of him. “I won’t say anything next time if you want me to.”

Scully bit at the end of the pencil as she felt a warmth spread over her and she smiled like a lovestruck teenager. “No. It’s okay, Mulder. I was just caught off guard with it.”

He glanced up and smiled. “You look even cuter when you do that.”

“Professionalism, Agent Mulder.” She looked back down and began to write notes again. But the smile and rosy hue didn’t leave her face. “Do you have your case notes from the MacGuyer case?”

He chuckled and passed a file stack to her.


	7. "You want a bite?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You want a bite?" Submitted by @BaronessBlixen

The warmth of their car had died long ago. The higher-ups must have been seriously out to get them when Mulder and Scully got suckered into helping White Collar with a stakeout on some famous blanker accused of money laundering. Normally, it wouldn’t be such a big deal except the weather forecasters were calling it to be one of the coldest nights this October. Not cold enough for snow but cold enough were the tips of your toes and fingers would begin to go numb.

“I wish we could run the car,” Scully muttered rubbing her arms. “Turn on the heater at least.”

Mulder’s new partner rubbed her wool arms and he chuckled. “I’ve had worse.”

“Worse stakeouts?” she asked.

“No. Worse cold nights. I grew up in Massachuttes remember?”

“I wouldn’t know. We were a navy family. I was born in Annapolis but I remember growing up on the West Coast. My family didn’t move back to Maryland until I was about to start medical school. That is why I choose John Hopkins. To be close to them.”

“What? You didn’t get cold nights in California.”

“Not San Diego.” She smiled.

He chuckled. “Well, my grandmother used to make us…” Mulder saw her confused look. He clarified. “Samantha and I this tomato soup that would drive out the worst cold no matter how much snow was outside or how sick we were.”

From the back of their seats, he produced a steel thermos that looked like something out of the 1960s. Scully arched an eyebrow. “I think my dad used to have one of those my mother used to give him when he would go to work with shore duty.”

“Well, every time I am stuck on a stakeout and colder than hell, I always make sure I bring some.”

“Want a bite?”

“Wouldn’t ‘want a sip?’ be more accurate instead?”

“Bite, smite…” He shrugged. He unscrewed the top and poured steaming hot tomato soup into a cup and passed it to Scully first who smiled gratefully. “Here you go, Scully.”

She sipped the tomato soup. “This is delicious. Are you sure, Mulder?”

He waved her off with a chuckle. “It’s all you, Scully.” She smiled as Mulder focused his gaze back out into the street before him. “Next time, you can bring snacks. I love iced tea. If it is iced tea, it must be love, Scully.”

“Noted,” she answered. “Next thing we’ll be doing is picking out china patterns.”

Mulder laughed. “I think we need a few stakeouts before we get there.”

“Well, I get to pick the place next time. Somewhere warmer.” She sipped the scalding tomato soup. “Same company.”

Mulder smiled. It had only been a few weeks but he knew he trusted this Special Agent Dana Scully with everything had. Maybe it was time to make a permanent space in the dank little basement for his new partner so they could continue this work together.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seemed out of place and didn't get a lot of feedback on Tumblr.
> 
> Prompt: Anon. "“24+76 It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka. / Please put your penis away.”

Scully awoke to Mulder gently caressing her bare thigh and watching her with hooded eyes in the predawn light. He smiled at her. “Good morning,” he whispered.

She stretched like a cat under the blankets before giving him her own sleepily smile in response. He continued to caress her thigh as they enjoyed the early morning silence. “We don’t get much of this anymore, do we?” She whispered.

“Having a five-year-old son and a three-year-old daughter doesn’t leave time for quiet,” Mulder reflected. He gave a tired smile. “But I wouldn’t trade our kids for anything. As much as they might drive me to drink. Joking of course. Maybe we should get something bigger than a townhouse in Georgetown. A little farmhouse closer to Quantico.”

“You are rambling like a drunk.” Scully’s face scrunched and she rolled to face him. “You have morning breath.”

“Are you implying that I have been drinking?”

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”

“Who said anything about vodka?” Mulder felt Scully stretch against him like a cat. “How long do you think the little ones will stay asleep?”

“We’re playing with fire if you think we can beat the odds.”

Mulder’s hand caressed Scully’s bare thigh under the sheets and she smirked. “Too early,” she groaned with a smile. She nuzzled his chest. “But we’ve been quick.”

“We have. Am I correct in saying that is a yes?”

Before they could grow serious, an ear-piercing scream echoed throughout their townhouse, shattering any early morning peace. Their three-year-old daughter with wispy auburn and hazel eyes came screaming into their room. “Mommy! There’s a ‘ersy level in the kitchen!”

“A what, Miss Sam?” Scully sat up and Mulder rolled his eyes. She narrowed her eyes and mouthed, ‘Please put your penis away, Mulder.’ She turned her attention back to her three-year-old daughter with tears streaking down her cheeks. She was beginning to hyperventilate. Scully placed a soothing hand on the toddler’s back. “Deep breathes, baby. Now, what was it?”

She took a deep breath as Mulder sat up too, concerned etched over his face. “Miss Sam, what is it?”

“I wanted water so I went to get it.”

“Melissa,” Scully said, “you know you aren’t allowed down the stairs without someone.”

“Will came with me.”

“Will?” Mulder asked with a frown. “Oh no.”

Scully pushed back a long strand of hair, adjusted toddler Melissa against her chest as she curled into her mother, and arched an elegant eyebrow. “I recognize that look, Mulder. It’s your panic space. What did you do?”

“Missy,” Mulder began softly. “Where is Will?”

“Downstairs,” she mumbled from the safety of Scully’s arms.

“I may have told Will a bedtime story.”

Scully, being the voice of reason, announced, “You wanna go on an investigation like mommy and daddy used to, Miss Sam? Investigate where William is and solve the mystery of the Jersey Devil?”

“It got Will,” their daughter whispered. Her arms coiled around Scully’s neck in fear.

“Don’t worry. Daddy knows how to deal with the Jersey Devil. Isn’t that right, Mulder?”

“Sure, Scully.” 

“After he got beaten up in the woods, mommy had to come to save his butt,” she whispered in her daughter’s ear. Their daughter giggled as Mulder grabbed the flashlight. “And daddy doesn’t like icky stuff.”

“Haha, Scully.”

Mulder clicked on the flashlight and led the investigation party into the kitchen. They found the fridge door wide open and muddy handprints on the shelves. “See, mommy,” cried their daughter, “it was eating food!”

“The Jersey Devil’s handprints look awfully similar to William’s,” Mulder observed, looking at Scully doubtfully.

At that moment, the pantry door swung open, hitting the wall with the thud. There was a loud mock growl as Will came out covered in mud, his arms extended like a zombie, stark naked. The parents gazed at each other, neither amused as Scully cleared her throat, “William Mulder. You put some pants one and wash off that mud. You aren’t a caveman. You aren’t a Jersey Devil!”

“Mom,” Melissa whispered. “It’s him.”

“No, it isn’t, Miss Sam,” Mulder sighed, turning on the kitchen lights. “It is just your brother.”

“Aw, dad! I got Melissa! I was the Jersey Devil, just like in the bedtime story you told me,” William complained.

Melissa leaned over and scrunched up her nose just like Scully. “Not funny, Will. I’m telling! Mom, dad!”

“We know, sweetie,” Mulder sighed. “We know. And from your mother’s discerning gaze she is giving me right now, I’ll clean up the mess, Scully.”

“See, Mulder? We have perfect communication. Get Will cleaned up and come back to bed, huh?” 

“It’s almost morning,” Will complained. 

“It’s five,” Mulder answered, catching Scully’s warm, inviting smile. “We don’t wake up until 8 am on Saturdays. Then we’ll do pancake quarters and mom will make five cup salad. Come on, Will, bath and back to bed.”

“Dad!”

“Haha, you gotta take a bath.” Miss Sam stuck out her tongue. “I get to stay with mommy.”

“You’re going back to bed too,” Scully reminded. “We solved the case of the Jersey Devil and any good investigator needs at least eight hours of sleep.”

Miss Sam rolled her eyes as she was carried back upstairs and put back to bed. Mulder sighed looking at his wild-child son. “Last time I tell you a bedtime case.”

“What?” Will exploded in disbelief. “You were gonna tell me about the Flukeman next!”

“Come on, Will. Bath time.” Mulder offered his hand and walked his son back upstairs to his awaiting bath. “Where on Earth did you even find mud, Will?”


End file.
